A Mother's Love
by LenaRoyston
Summary: After barely surviving a mysterious fever Narcissa's eleven year old son Draco has returned to the land of the living, but little is as it seems and Draco might just hold the key to a better future for them all. Doesn't mean his mother has to be all too thrilled about the fact that her son carries the weight of their world on his shoulders... Companion piece to Eagle Princess
1. Chapter 1

Hey Lovelies!

On Archive of Our Own, quite a few people expressed interest in reading about the events from Eagle Princess, my time travel Dramione fic, from Narcissa's POV, so I decided to give it a shot. Updates on this might get a bit erratic, but since I'm planning to keep the chapters from 2 to 5k at most, everything should work out quite alright. Well, hopefully.

Besides, my best friend loves the Snape and Narcissa interactions, so now I'm writing an entire story about it.

That being said this whole thing has a plot and a mapped out storyline with a climax that will tie into the Eagle Princess Universe (Gods that sounds pretentious as hell but it's 3 am in Austria so cut me some slack :)), however since the format is a bit less restricted, I'd be open to suggestions if anybody wants to hear from other POV characters. For now Severus and Narcissa are the only POVs I am planning on doing.

Theoretically speaking I'd say this fic can be read on its own, although it'll be littered with cross references, or even dialogue pieces from the main story, if they are relevant to the plot so I'd highly recommend at least skimming through the original. In particular the first few chapters, where most of my AU elements are part of the plot.

Pairings:

Severus Snape and Narcissa Malfoy

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger

At this point I'd like to caution in advance that romance is NOT the main focus of this story and yes, Snape and Narcissa are my intended endgame somewhere down the line in Eagle Princess, so both of them will most definitely be attracted to each other at one point during this story. That being said, both of them come with a rather substantial emotional package. Narcissa is still very much struggling with her abusive husband and Severus, well there's always Lily Potter where he is concerned and getting over your first love when your actions led to her untimely demise is well... rather difficult.

And well, as for my darling Draco and his future love... He's, of course, very much in love with her, so there'll be quite a few references to him being smitten with Hermione, but give the poor bloke some time to woo his girl. Things like that simply don't happen over night.

Usually not one for trigger warnings, but Lucius is an asshole, so marital rape might get referenced or even described in detail, although I don't expect to get too graphic. Violence in general will be a common theme. Child abuse, too and Narcissa had stillbirths and miscarriages in the past, so if that bothers you, you might want to skip a few paragraphs.

And keep in mind that Narcissa is very much a product of her highly conservative upbringing and environment in regards to sex, women's rights etc. Letting go of deeply ingrained ideas is often far more difficult than people make it out to be...

Sry for the long author's note, don't know how they always end up being a lot longer than I had initially intended... (J&P just don't say anything, I already know what it is and nope you two are completely wrong!)

I don't own Harry Potter... unfortunately, otherwise I'd be writing this from my villa in Bali ;)

Chapter 1: Knocking on Heaven's door

 _Do not go gentle into that good night._

 _Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

 _Dylan Thomas_

The world was quiet. Silvery moonlight filtering through a narrow crack in the curtains, disrupting the blanket of darkness that had settled over the tastefully decorated bedroom Narcissa Aurelia Malfoy nee Black usually shared with her husband. Now, it was only her shallow breathing that reverberated in the night air. Two weeks prior her husband had taken an international portkey to France, called away on urgent business and Narcissa would have been lying if she had claimed to miss him.

 _Quite the opposite to be exact._

Their marriage had never been a happy one. Arranged as so many others, a match based entirely on political considerations rather than personal compatibility. Malfoys and Blacks. Dragons and stars. When two children had been born to the two most influential pureblood families, their wedding had been treated as a foregone conclusion. The betrothal contract written and signed before either child had even celebrated its first birthday. It went without saying that Narcissa had not been the intended bride...

 _Andy..._

Even now, almost twenty years after the fact, the irretrievable loss of her oldest sister was a constant pain she had never quite managed to shake. She had been twelve at the time, gentle and kind Andromeda the object of her innocent hero worship and when she was gone, Narcissa had mourned for her beloved sister with the same intensity as if death had truly claimed her. In a way it felt like he had.

Time had never healed that particular wound and as the years had passed, her initial heart-clenching sorrow had partially soured with resentment. Relief that Andromeda seemed to have found happiness in her unconventional marriage warring with bitterness at the fact that her sister had abandoned her so easily. Choosing a man over her family and leaving Narcissa to pick up the pieces, to marry the monster her husband had turned out to be.

 _'A Malfoy is not to be denied!'_

Her wedding night had been anything but gentle, her virginity, a prerequisite of any pureblood union, torn to shreds as Lucius had rammed into her from behind without even the slightest hint of preparation. An altogether unpleasant affair the ebony haired witch had taken no pleasure in, nevertheless, she had not once cried out in agony, instead opting to grit her teeth determinedly and bear her fate with the ice cold stoicism her mother had drilled into her.

Women were not meant to take enjoyment in the act anyway, though Narcissa could not deny that there had been a handful of instances where she had actually believed to feel a faint fluttering of pleasure during her and Lucius' many couplings. Usually in those exceedingly rare instances where her husband did not waste his time by manhandling her first, however, more often than not, her body's positive response made her feel dirtier than anything else ever could.

A small cracking sound rang through the heavy silence and Narcissa could not quite keep her brows from narrowing slightly in confusion. Never mind that she was almost grateful for the distraction, given that sleep was still evading her, but Misty usually should have known better than to disrupt her Mistress so long after nightfall. However, before she had found the time to issue a gentle reprimand to that effect, the little creature had snapped it's finger, lighting up all the bee-wax candles she had so carefully placed throughout the room, panic colouring its screechy voice.

"Mistress, Dobby is sorry... So sorry... But mistress musts come and see. The young master... Hes is screaming and burning. It is not right... Not right at all. Dobby doesn't know what to do."

"Draco?" Alarmed Narcissa slipped out of bed, not even bothering to make herself look more presentable, as she hurried out of the door. Bare feet flying across the cold stone floor, its echo travelling down the empty corridor. Untamed black ringlets cascading down her back, the sheer nightgown clinging to her body.

 _Draco._

 _My son._

 _My sweet, sweet son._

 _My little miracle._

At the time of Draco's conception, Narcissa had already lost three children. Two of them she had miscarried towards the end of the first trimester, but the third babe, a boy she had quietly named Perseus, had lasted in her womb for seven long months of joy and anticipation, only to be delivered stillborn. A miniature angel... She only got to hold him once, after all the blood had been washed away. He had lain in her arms so peacefully one might have believed him to be asleep.

To call her inconsolable afterwards would not have done her devastated state of mind any justice. Grief had enveloped her in a dark haze of sorrow and misery that had lasted for more than a year. Right until she had realised that her moonblood had not returned for four full months and a son had once again begun to grow within her.

All through her pregnancy with Draco, Narcissa had barely allowed herself to hope for a healthy babe, fearing that life would tear her chance at happiness apart at any given moment. When the midwife had presented her with the child, a true Malfoy, even then, with his platinum hair and steel-grey eyes, she had felt hot tears of relief rolling down her cheek.

One sister had joined her brother in his too small grave, another had not even survived past the third month before Narcissa had finally given up on her hope for a second living babe. Evidently Draco was a blessing not to be repeated and she could not bear the thought of having to bury another child. Ever since the, she had secretly consumed a contraceptive potion, claiming that the heavy complications during Atalanta's birth had rendered her body unable to sustain any further pregnancies.

 _Sagittarius, Antares, Perseus, Draco, Cassiopeia, Atalanta._

 _So many little blessings._

 _Only one of them will ever know adulthood._

 _My dragon amongst the stars._

 _And yet, I can't protect him..._

 _Can't hold him like a mother should._

 _Can't even reassure him of my love._

As far as her only child's upbringing was concerned, Narcissa had been relegated to the sidelines, a silent spectator, watching helplessly from the shadows as Lucius shaped his heir as he saw fit. In the eyes of the law, a son's education and discipline was a father's duty! Narcissa's part had begun and ended with the task of birthing him, or at least that was the way things had always been done amongst the pureblood families. Daughters would have been a slightly different matter, but even in their case Lucius' will as the head of the Malfoy family would have superseded hers as its matriarch.

' _A son doesn't need a mother's meddling! Coddling a boy will only make him soft, where he's supposed to be strong, wilful where he's supposed to be obedient and foolish where he's supposed to be cunning.'_

Draco could have been hardly older than a toddler when Lucius had begun to limit Narcissa's access to her precious little boy, as was his right, no matter how much it tore her apart to keep her distance from her only son. In the beginning she had fought back in the only way she could, growing well-versed at inserting herself into her son's schedule without alerting Lucius to the fact. Treasured memories of tutoring him in French and Latin, the first one as a nod to the roots of the Malfoy lineage and the latter to lay the groundwork for Draco's future understanding of spell development and meaning.

Lucius had been positively livid when he had found out a few weeks prior to Draco's sixth birthday. Nevertheless, Narcissa might have continued her scheming if her husband had chosen her as the target of his frustrations. Instead he had dragged Draco off into the next room, threatening to double the punishment their son was about to receive if she dared to move even an inch. Fearing the consequences, Narcissa had not dared to intervene, forced to listen as her son's tortured cries of pain had echoed through the walls. Since then she had obediently kept her distance, lest she might end up endangering Draco even further.

Five years had passed since then and Narcissa could already see the effects of Lucius' brutality and her own negligence. Could see the shadows marring her son's all too serious face, the cold exterior he presented to the world, adept at keeping his true intentions hidden. For now he was still young, but how long before the mask of icy countenance became a permanent fixture on her son's face? How long until he got consumed by rightful anger and resentment?

Draco, her precious little boy, who yearned so desperately for his father's approval, but only ever earned scorn and reprimand. Who had only ever known biting words and the back of a fist. Whose mother would not even look his way for fear of rousing her husband's temper, even while said husband was not even in the same country. Draco, whose all too observant eyes would only ever truly come to life in the presence of Severus, Narcissa's most cherished friend and Draco's godfather, but also the most reclusive wizard she had ever known. Knowing that her son regarded Sev as a mentor, perhaps, even a parental figure, all the while resenting her... Suffice to say that sometimes the very thought was enough to make her mad with jealousy at her childhood friend.

Of course any such musings were, without exception, immediately followed by a crawling sense of guilt. Not only because Narcissa knew that she should feel truly grateful that Draco had at least someone in his life who was willing to fill some of the void her and Lucius failure as his parents had created, but also because she was probably the only person who knew about the terrible guilt her friend carried with him, even after all those years.

 _I should be glad that they are so good for each other._

Despite his reserved demeanour it was plain as day that Severus cared for Draco like any father should care for his son and in turn her son's presence seemed to give her friend's worldweary soul a much needed reprieve from the heavy burden that weighed on his shoulders. Both of them deserved whatever happiness their shared companionship might grant them. How could Narcissa dare to taint their bond with her own pettiness, just because she envied their closeness, because she felt excluded by the two men who mattered more to her than anything else in this Salazar forsaken world.

 _And now my son is sick... Looks bad enough to send Dobby into a frenzy, even though the healing skills of house elves are more than enough to deal with all the conventional illnesses, never mind a simple fever. There's a reason why so many wizards entrust them with the care of their children!_

Finally she had reached the door to Draco's bedroom, her son's groans filling the night, muffled through the heavy oak wood. Mind jumbled by her haste to reach him, Narcissa gracelessly tumbled into the room, coming to a sudden halt as she took in the scene in front of her.

Her usually impeccably groomed son looked a fright, pale skin contrasting starkly against the dark bruises around Draco's closed eyelids, cold sweat covering his forehead with a thin layer of dampness, all colour had drained from his lips as he tossed and turned, violent shivers spasming through his body. "No. Please... Pl... Please don't... Father, please. You can't. Not her. I swear I'll do what you want... She's your wife... Father, you can't. Maman, I... Why can't I help her? Why? I'd never... Never, do you hear me? You love her too... I can feel it... Father doesn't, but you... I'm shaking, so you, you must want to help her too. Why don't you? Why, you bastard?"

Tears burst from the eleven year old's eyes, painting a trail of wetness across his hollow cheeks, and Narcissa rushed forward, her son's name falling from her lips like a prayer. Her trembling hands reaching for his forehead, only to flinch back as Narcissa felt the heat boiling beneath her fingertips. The wild magic vibrating through the air around them. Whatever had caused Draco such pain it was most certainly nothing natural, only very strong magic could produce such symptoms.

"Oh Draco."

 _Hasn't he suffered enough?_

 _"_ No..." All his earlier vehemence had evaporated from Draco's body, his voice a hoarse plea of utmost brokenness. Vulnerability creeping into his demeanour, as he struggled against his invisible demons. "No... Mother... Please! Kill me instead, father... Please! No! No..."

 _Merlin help me..._

 _"_ Shhh, mon cheri. Shhh. Everything's gonna be alright." Willing her voice into a soothing cadence Narcissa gently swept a strand of damp hair out of Draco's face, keeping her calm despite the fact that all she wanted was to break down and sob her heart out. Too overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions her son's desperate cries had unleashed inside of her. "I'm here Draco. Just focus on my voice, mon cheri. I need you to come back to me."

 _I can't loose you!_

 _Not now!_

 _Not ever!_

 _"_ Ma... Maman? Wh... Oh." His eyelids fluttered, but soon enough he seemed to sink even deeper into the mattress, a note of defeat entering his posture, shoulders slumped as if all hope had left him at once. "Another dream, then..." What little composure Narcissa had managed to cling onto vanished in that moment, her heart splintering into a thousand little pieces at hearing the secret longing in Draco's voice paired with tired resignation. How often had she denied him her love? Had avoided his hopeful gaze, out of shame and fear?

"It's me mon cheri. I'm here! You'll see... You'll be alright... I promise!" Narcissa heard her own voice crack on the last syllables, fingers shaking as they tightened around Draco's narrow wrist. Willing her son to remain in the present, although she could already see him drifting away, once again loosing himself in the darkness, his ramblings quickly declining in coherency

"It hurts, Maman. The fire and then the dreams... There's too much! And nothing makes any sense... You died and I couldn't... and father... I hate him... I hate him so much it physically hurts. There's more, though. Harry Potter's terribly overrated... But she seems to like him... Not me, though... Never, me... Told me I'm a vile, loathsome, evil, little cockroach... Punched me too, I think. Better that way... 'Mudblood'... So pretty, though. Amber and periwinkle... and lilacs... always the bloody lilacs..."

He broke off, a new round of spasms shaking his body to the core, finally propelling Narcissa into action, ordering Dobby, who had silently witnessed the entire exchange, what kind of potions she had settled on trying before turning to the experts in St. Mungo's. However, while she was working her way down the inventory she had memorised, Narcissa could not quite shake the foreboding feeling that nothing she could do would show much of an impact on Draco's state. Not when there was ancient magic at work, forces that far surpassed anything she had ever felt before.

 _I've got to try at least!_

 _I can't loose him..._

 _I can't..._

 _I can't..._


	2. Chapter 2

Hey Lovelies!

So much to write and so little time ;) A big thank you for the reviews, follows and favorites this story has received so far! I'm happy that it was so well received...

I don't own Harry Potter. Regrettably...

Please tell me what you think about Severus in this chapter, because the next one will be his POV :)

Lena

Chapter 2: Hope's end

 _The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone._

 _Harriet Beecher Stowe_

Minutes crawled by slowly. Time stretched unbearably by her own anguish and impatience, while Narcissa sat in the small private room on the fourth floor of St. Mungos, waiting for the result of Head Healer Heribert Histleheart's examination. Being one of the main donor's of the hospital afforded the members of the Malfoy family the privilege of privacy and discretion whenever they saw themselves in need of medical attention.

Two hours had passed since she had stepped through the fire place that connected Malfoy Manor directly with the Spell Damage Division, Draco's burning body clutched tightly to her side. Just as she had expected, all of her home-brewed cures had failed to result in any betterment of her son's condition and she had quickly run out of diagnostic spells after she had ruled out Dragon Pox and other contagious maladies. Various poisons and venomous creatures too, thanks to the spell a particularly adventurous ancestor of hers had developed somewhen during the First Goblin Rebellion in 1612.

 _The Black Grimoir._

Draco's birthright. The claim to a House that had lost much of the respect its name had once commanded, the power they had wielded by rights of blood and magic. With no one there to uphold the title after Regulus' death and Sirius' incarceration following the Dark Lord's fall, although, quite frankly, said cousin had never been one to care for the family honour to begin with, all that was left of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black was the prestigious shell of the leading force they had once presented in Wizarding society.

 _And since Bella's ordeal..._

No, she could not think about her older sister. Would not allow herself to contemplate the darkness that had been festering in Bella's mind, ever since the incident that had pushed her into the abyss of insanity. Bella was lost, irretrievably so, her mind shattered into razor sharp shards of cruelty and madness even before the Dark Lord had fallen and ten years spent in the desolate confines of Azkaban, amongst Dementor's sucking all life and reason out of the air, had only worsened her sister's precarious mental condition.

' _He'll come, Cissy. You'll see... Come back for me. For us... Invisible like a shadow in the darkness. Dumbledore will fall. You'll see... Cissy. They'll all die. Blood traitors and filth, who keep me locked up. The world will burn with our fury and the House of Black will once again rise from the ashes. Queens in our own right, no longer damned to dwell in hiding, while mudbloods are spitting on our values and muggles shamelessly steal our magic like the scum they are.'_

She inwardly shuddered as the memory resurfaced. Not because of her sisters scathing and delusional rhetoric, if memory served correctly Bella had always been partial to that particular kind of dramatics, however, watching her rocking back and forth, maniacal laughter bouncing from the wet stones of the prison cell. Filth clotting her sister's hair and damp rags barely preserving her modesty, had been enough to shake Narcissa to her very core.

 _Blood of my blood._

That she was, but Narcissa had dreaded to return to the dreadful island ever since. Fearful of the day, where Bella would begin to include Draco in her visions of a perfect world, created in the ruins of the one they knew. War had torn her family apart piece by piece, ripped away what little support she might have counted on against her husband. Regulus had been terribly young when he had taken the Dark Mark, and yet for a short time it had helped to constrain Lucius' more violent tendencies, if only because Narcissa's cousin had become quite the frequent guest at the Manor during that time.

 _Did she fundamentally disagree with the Dark Lord's reproach of muggleborns?_

 _Well, not exactly._

Narcissa most certainly held no love for them, at least that much rang true... How could she? After all it had been Ted Tonks, a muggleborn, who had deprived Narcissa of her sister's presence, had seduced Andromeda into abandoning her family and flee her childhood home in the dead of the night. Severus, a halfblood himself, had suffered terribly under his muggle father and had his heart broken when Lilly Evans had married his childhood bully.

Anyway, Narcissa had never truly warmed up to the muggleborn witch, with whom Sev had been so enamoured with. Of course she had never been personally acquainted, but from what she had gathered through Severus' stories, Evans had been rather self-absorbed. Either unappreciative or just wilfully unaware of the shunning her supposedly best friend endured just for associating with a girl of her heritage, never mind defending her honour whenever the other Slytherin boys dared to drag her name through the proverbial mud.

 _So much loyalty and love, more than I've ever known myself... and yet Evans refused to forgive him for one little mistake._

No, her personal experiences certainly did nothing to endear her to muggleborns in general. Besides, one did not need to have an 'O' on the Arithmancy N.E.W.T. in order to understand that the truly explosive growth of the nonmagical population, and the therefore steadily increasing influx of muggleborns would further escalate the identity crisis of the already divided wizarding community.

And no, she decidedly refused to call them by that absolutely vile term, Lucius and Bella used with such abandon!

 _Bad enough that Lucius encourages Draco to do so, but he's still just a boy._

In an eleven year old child, a certain amount of brattishness was to be expected, perhaps to be encouraged even, given Draco's already existing propensity towards acting much too serious already. Nevertheless, even in her son's case, his feverish ramblings from the night before had been enough to give her pause. As incoherent as Draco had been at the time, there had been something tragic in the resignation his ragged voice had carried.

 _Punched me, too. Better that way... 'Mudblood'... So pretty, though._

However, behaviour like that, which could be, if not excused, then at least tolerated in a child, was by no means worthy behaviour of a pureblood, the Lord of the most renowned family in Wizarding Britain no less. Resorting to petty name calling and plebeian insults showed nothing but a severe lack of class. A veritable insult to their own pedigree. Not that she would have ever told Lucius as much... He was quite set in his opinion, so Narcissa had wisely kept her counsel to herself.

 _But I digress..._

Anyway, recognising the undeniable threat muggleborns posed to their collective values, to the time-honoured traditions that had been passed down through the generations, did not necessarily translate into advocating for their total annihilation. Even the comparably moderate voices, who merely intended to put them into their rightful place as dutiful servants of the respectable families, had always filled her with unease... She knew what her husband and his friends had gotten up to on those Death Eater revels. What they had done to those women... Narcissa felt sick just thinking about it, even if it had helped to sate Lucius' desire for her at the time.

 _Did they have no self control? Subtlety? Moderation? Cunning? All those values the Most Noble House of Slytherin was so well-respected for?_

It had always baffled her, why for Merlin's sake, the self-proclaimed heir to the prestigious line of Salazar Slytherin had chosen such a direct, not to mention unnecessarily violent, approach to the muggleborn problem. Surely there must have been a political solution? There usually was if you were just willing to pay the right amount of Galleons... Nimue knew, Ministry was anything but incorruptible.

Calling himself Voldemort and his group of followers Death Eater's had been another rather unfortunate decision on his part, which certainly had not helped to sway public opinion in the Dark Lord's favour. Never mind the revels, where muggles and muggleborns alike faced torture and the loss of virtue, or the ugly skull symbol he had branded into the arm of his most faithful...

 _Like cattle._

The creaking door alerted Narcissa to the fact that her thoughts were no longer her only company, prompting her to rise from the chair, fully expecting to be met with the solemn expression of Head Healer Histleheart as she turned towards the offending noise. However, when she actually turned, she exhaled an inaudible gasp.

 _Sev._

 _"_ You came."

"Of course." For a short moment Severus looked almost insulted that she would have assumed otherwise, before he uncrossed his arms and bowed slightly. Having been raised without sufficient knowledge about the societal conventions so many purebloods adhered to, had only strengthened her friend's resolve to conduct himself with nothing but impeccable manners. An equally endearing and infuriating habit, since Narcissa appreciated the demonstration of his respect but did not care at all for the air of formality it created between them.

"I'll never convince you to stop that, will I?"

"In this lifetime? Exceedingly unlikely..." There was a slight pause, the levity their familiar exchange had conjured, vanishing just as fast as it had appeared, before Severus made a step closer, the corners of his mouth curling apologetically. "Misty didn't dare to interrupt my meeting with the headmaster this morning, Cissa. I came as soon as I heard."

 _Of course, you did._

 _"_ I didn't intend to give the impression that I'd doubt your commitment to my son, Sev. We can count ourselves quite lucky to have you." Her smile came out rather brittle, far weaker than she would have liked, the tiredness and worry of the last few hours catching up with her, as she gracefully slid back onto the cushions, gesturing for Severus to do the same. "Come sit with me. I'm still waiting for the results of Head Healer Histleheart's examination."

Settling down in the seat across from her, black robes billowing around him, Severus stated evenly, all the while procuring two small vials, which he handed to her without any further explanation. "Lucius is with Draco, I presume? Must be difficult to choose between his son's sickbed and consoling his wife's worried heart."

 _If only..._

Uncorking the first vial, Pepper-up as she noted absentmindedly, Narcissa took an unnecessarily long sip in order to prevent the most unladylike snort from slipping through her teeth. She closed her eyes, feeling the reinvigorating brew wash through her body, before she sought out Sev's questioning gaze. Under normal circumstances that would have been the point where she made up some excuse, wracked her mind for an explanation that would absolve Lucius from any responsibility. Never allowing Severus' concerns regarding the unfortunate state of her marriage develop any further than vague suspicions.

What would it have helped anyway? The vows had been spoken, their bond sealed in magic and Sev possessed neither the power nor the right to take the necessary measures to reign in Lucius' violent nature. However, Narcissa's anger was still fresh, and her infamously unshakeable countenance had suffered greatly under the uncertainty and fear of the last few hours.

 _Why shouldn't I share my pain with someone I trust? Just this once?_

Allowing some of her growing bitterness to seep into her voice, she made an indistinct wave with her hand, lips thinning with disapproval. " Oh, don't be ridiculous, Sev! My darling husband is currently way too occupied to waste his time on such trivial matter's as his son's health. He has made it quite clear that he won't return to Britain before the end of the summer, unless an most unfortunate event forces his hand."

 _Lucius' nerve! To call the death of our shared son an 'unfortunate event'._

 _By Circe, I swear the only unfortunate event was marrying him in the first place._

 _But then I wouldn't have Draco..._

All colour had drained from Severus sharply cut features, black eyes flaring with dark fury, while Narcissa fought down the dark cloud of guilt she felt because of the uncharitable thoughts that had whirled through her mind. She would have married Lucius a hundred times, if only for the wonderful son that had resulted from their union.

"Cissa..." Sev growled, sending a hot shiver of gratification through Narcissa's body. It felt so good to know that he cared, that he was so incensed on her behalf. Draco's behalf, really, as she reminded herself perhaps a bit too forcefully, but his anger soother her nonetheless. "You haven't been honest with me..."

 _Not by far..._

 _"_ Always as honest as I thought prudent, given the circumstances. However, yes, I'll admit that Lucius' indifference comes as no surprise to me. Quite frankly, I'm relieved in a way. Draco is not anywhere near lucid. When I found him in his chambers, he was rambling about a girl..." Knowing that Severus would likely take offence with the terminology her son had used, Narcissa coughed uneasily. "A pretty girl, you see? It was quite incoherent but apparently said girl had punched him, and called him names, although Draco seemed to think it was for the best because..."

"Yes?" One of Severus' eyebrows was raised expectantly, obviously not sure what to expect from her explanation. Inhaling a deep breath, Narcissa finished. "Well, because she was a muggleborn, even if Draco didn't phrase it quite so polite. What do you think Lucius would do if he heard his son and the heir to the Malfoy name hallucinating about a muggleborn? How she smelled like lilacs? And that's just the first time he mentioned her... It was quite unnerving. Terribly vivid for a mere figment of his imaginations."

"I can see how that could have complicated things. Do..." Understanding coloured Severus features, but Narcissa never heard the end of his question, because in that very moment a knock on the door, followed by a creaking sound announced the arrival of Head Healer Histleheart, who entered the room, his light green healer robes unmistakeable.

It took Narcissa no longer than one look to determine that the news he was about to deliver were anything but good, her heart constricting at the very thought.

 _Why Draco?_

 _Why has fate determined to punish my son?_

 _My sweet, sweet son, who's already suffered so much._

 _"_ Head Healer." She nodded gracefully, forcing the rising panic to remain securely stashed away. It was one thing to grant Severus access to her thoughts, but to show weakness in front of a healer, a virtual stranger, even contemplating the idea was unfathomable. "What news can you bring us of my son?"

"Lady Malfoy." After bowing respectfully, Healer Histleheart turned to Severus, his eyes cold. Contrary to Narcissa, her friend had neither the benefit of money, nor an official title to ingratiate himself with the wiry old man and the societal stigma surrounding the former Death Eaters still ran as deep as they had been ten years ago. "Master Snape, I'm afraid I'm not authorised to share pertinent information with people who are not related to the patient."

A muscle ticked in Severus' jaw, the only indication of the indignation he must have felt at the older wizard's blatant attempt of dismissal. Quickly deciding on a course of deescalation Narcissa moved closer to Severus side. Demonstratively resting her hand on his arm, which twitched ever so slightly beneath her gentle touch, though, she could not quite tell if her friend's reaction was testament to his flaring temper or merely an expression of his surprise at the unexpected display of affection.

 _A married woman touching an unwed man in public... Mother would have had an heart attack right about now!_

 _"_ I'm afraid there must be an unfortunate misunderstanding, Head Healer. Severus is a treasured friend of my husband and just as anxious as I to hear news of his godson." Her voice was deceptively soft, eyes flashing with ice. Daring the healer to contradict her.

Visibly unhappy about her intervention, Histleheart nodded curtly. "My apologies." Taking a deep breath, the elderly wizard ventured. "As for your son Lady Malfoy, I'm deeply sorry to say that we've found ourselves unable to determine the source of his fever. There's undoubtedly a magical component, but our diagnostic charms all come up empty. Symptomatic treatment has also proven ineffective. We've tried anything at this point, healing charms, curse breakers, potions..."

He broke off, visibly wilting under the cool glare the two old friends gave him. "At the rate the fever is burning through him, I can only advise you to be prepared for the worst."

 _The worst..._

 _Merlin, he means..._

 _No... Draco, no... He's so young!_

 _So terribly, terribly young. That can't be the truth..._

Narcissa felt her knees grow weak, fingers tightening around Severus' arm until her knuckles turned white, the flexing muscles underneath her hand, the only thing that kept her standing. She would not, could not, allow herself to collapse right now, not when Draco would need all her strength, before...

"I see." There was a small part of her, beneath all the pain and the grief that coursed through her veins, that registered how little of her all consuming sorrow was betrayed by her voice. How the years of hiding her emotions behind cold indifference helped her to keep her wits together as she motioned almost mechanically, nothing but the slightest waver giving away the way her heart broke inside her chest. "Thank... you, Head Healer, your time and effort are much appreciated."

 _Draco..._

 _I've failed you my son._

 _"_ Your son, Lady Malfoy, is in much pain right now. And it'll only grow worse, before... " Histleheart looked distinctly uncomfortable with the topic he was about to breach. "I usually wouldn't recommend it but there are certain ways to... to ease his passing so to speak."

Speechless terror gripped her chest, at the mere thought. How dare he suggest such a thing? That she would let her son go before his time? To abandon all hope that Draco might recover?

 _How can he?_

 _It's only been a few hours..._

 _"_ No." To her surprise it was Severus, who had kept silent up to that point, who voiced his disagreement first. His tone was flat, brokering no further argument, by no means bothering to hide the imperious contempt dripping from his words. "Merlin help me, but I'll be damned before I see my only godson sacrificed on the altar of your own incompetence! As long as Draco is still breathing, still fighting, there's still hope for his recovery. He deserves better than an overdose of Sleeping Draught, just because of your regrettable incapability to find a cure, _Head Healer!"_

 _"_ How dare you..." Histleheart's anger was palpable, colour draining from his face as he hissed. "I'm well respected in my field! Not stuck-up Death..."

"Head Healer." Eyeing the enraged wizard in front of her, Narcissa affected a conciliatory tone. By now, she only wanted to leave. Every second she could not spend at her son's bedside was nothing but wasted time. "I think it is high time for us to take our leave... and Draco... My son, will return with us to Malfoy Manor. The magic of our House runs strongest in the halls of his ancestors and whatever the future might bring, Draco's place is with his family. Surely you can understand?"

Nodding stiffly and not without sending a heated glare in Severus direction, the Healer gestured for them to follow him. Leaving the pair to follow him through a long corridor to the examination room.

"My apologies, Cissa. It's just..."

"Don't, Sev... You didn't say anything I didn't want to. Draco... I can't give up hope. Not yet... Not ever, I think..."

 _I want a chance to be the mother he deserves!_

 _Just one!_


	3. Chapter 3

Hey Lovelies!

The promised Severus POV chapter... Just a few snippets to build up his character before Draco finally wakes up :)

Lena

I don't own Harry Potter.

Of fathers and sons

 _Our scars are the proof of our struggles, the lasting testament to our pain, our heartbreak and suffering. Our defeat. And yet, they're also the evidence that we've survived. Carried on. Marked but not broken by the wounds of our past._

 _Unknown_

Silvery-blue steam rose from the translucent liquid, which was currently simmering in its golden cauldron, as soon as the carefully portioned handful of dried mint leaves hit its surface, sinking under the water in a whirl of milky turquoise. A fairly encouraging sight, which filled Severus Snape with no small amount of satisfaction. After all, he had devoted the last forty hours to the process of developing and brewing an entirely new variety of cooling draught. One that was specifically aimed at eliminating the source of the burning sensation rather than just soothing its effects by providing a temporary symptomatic relief.

 _Three more turns counterclockwise._

Quite ironically the theoretical framework of the new formula was rooted in a tweak to the original recipe, which he had discovered to be rather effective at battling the crippling aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse. A promising research avenue that Severus had never quite found the time to pursue. Held up between his duties as the potions master of Hogwarts, a role that included tedious hours of teaching incompetent dunderheads as well as assisting the headmaster with his own research projects, and serving as the reigning Head of Slytherin House, where he was regularly forced to counterbalance the general hostility that was directed against the students that had been placed under his protection.

 _Add powdered Sagittaria roots and boil until the colour clears to a vibrant blue._

Brandishing his wand the potions master raised the temperature, whirling on the spot and hurrying towards the larger laboratory, where large batches of the non-experimental healing potions were stewing under stasis charms, only waiting for their completion. Based on Severus calculations he still had ten more minutes until he needed to lower the temperature. Gently cooling the draught until the watery components reached their highest density. More than enough time to perform the last incantation over the modified pepperup and diligently grind one of the bezoars in the exceptionally well stocked Malfoy house apothecary into dust.

 _Yet another attempt at a broadband antidote, that's not going to work._

Pushing the dangerous thought away for fear of breaking his state of utmost concentration, Severus, weaved his way through the mass of blubbering and sputtering cauldrons, towards the large cabinet at the end of the room, reaching for the vials of Sleepless Salvation and Energy replenisher. By no means a permanent solution, since they were nurtured by his own life force. Feeding from his core, whilst simultaneously numbing him to the damage they were inflicting. After one and week of knowing neither rest nor comfort, his reflection in the faultlessly polished glass vials already showed the heavy toll his irresponsibility had taken on his body.

 _Fresh Poppy milk and bottled Dragon's Breath._

Downing both vials, Severus did not wait for the effects of the potions to kick in before he moved over to the desk, where he had laid out all preprepared potion ingredients. Distributing them to their respective cauldrons, a milky-white narcotic and a reddish brown solution that had been used during the crippling Dragonpox epidemics which had ravished the Wizarding communities all through the Middle Age's.

 _Not exactly promising, but anything's better than doing nothing at this point!_

Then he rushed back to the back-chamber, using a more temperate variety of the Glacius charm to cool the cauldron until the concoction resembled the deep iridescent colour of the icebergs he had seen in Iceland, where he had once sought to learn from one of the more eccentric potioneers. Arnar Gunnarson. A hermit, who had spent his lifetime searching for a way to apply the inherent power of the many ancient runic alphabets to the process of potion making.

 _What if..._

 _No, perhaps with the next batch._

Master Gunnarson's attempts had been largely ineffective, despite an, as Severus had thought at the time, quite promising approach. Complicated runic enchantments did not lend themselves easily to the brewing process, and most of them ended up interfering unfavourably with the finely tuned equilibria that were so crucial in order to guarantee the potions effectiveness. Nonetheless the solitary wizard had taught Severus several short combinations that had shown great promise in some of his trial runs. Knowledge he had thought long forgotten, buried in the recesses of his mind.

 _Isaz. Ice. Or Laguz. Water. Paired with Algiz for protection might just add the necessary strength if the Cooling Draught alone fails to provide any measurable results._

Shaking his head, Severus stored that idea away for later contemplation, all the while filling the finished Draught into the vials he had already laid out. Now that the brewing process was completed, leaving him without his work to occupy his mind, to keep his demons at bay, the potions master could feel the world slowly closing in on him. As it turned out even his abilities to compartmentalise, which were in fact rather impressive if he dared to say it himself, evidently had their limits.

 _Salazar, it just has to work this time around! What use is all my wealth of knowledge if I can't even safe Draco? The boy, who is as close to me in heart and temperament as any son of mine could ever hope to be._

 _Cissa would never forgive me if..._

 _Not that I could ever forgive myself..._

Had someone told Severus thirteen odd years ago that he would one day care about a child that was not even his own. Would sacrifice sleep and energy in pursuit of an elusive cure to a disease no one, not one author in the vast history of magical maladies, several of which were already of rather questionable reputation, had ever recorded. Well, the raven-haired wizard would have been sorely tempted to put their sanity into question.

It was not that he hated children per se, even if Salazar knew the limited mental capacities of his students oftentimes tested his resolve in that regard... He just had a hard time to connect with them. After all, his own, in every sense of the word lacklustre childhood, certainly did not offer any reference-points on which he could have based his interactions with them. In the Snape household joy and laughter had been replaced by drunken insults and more often than not his muggle father's fist. All money that could have otherwise been spent on clothes or even the most basic necessities like groceries, ended sooner or later on the bottom of a dusty old whiskey-bottle.

Fear of perpetuating such a cycle of abuse and humiliation had made Severus swear off the idea of parenthood even long before he had graduated from Hogwarts. For Lily he might have one day reconsidered... In fact for Lily he would have done a good many things. However that was neither here nor there... Just another 'what if' on his never-ending list of regrets where it came to his childhood love.

 _She's dead and it's all my fault._

 _I killed her._

 _Murdered her just as surely as if I had cast the killing curse myself._

 _And now the only thing that's left of her is James Potter's son._

Grimacing, the potion master stepped out of the laboratory, vials clinking in his pockets as he moved up the staircase. Even after all those years Lily's fate gnawed at his insides like a festering wound that would never heal, equal parts guilt and heartbreak chipping away at whatever was left of his blackened soul. Recovering from loosing her to Potter might have been possible once upon a time, but the combination of having lost her forever, and not as the consequence of some unstoppable force of nature but only his own mindless actions, was enough to preserve his pain in an endless circle of misery.

 _Always._

The Dark Lord had recruited him straight out of school, making Severus the only halfblood whom he had ever elected to grant access to his inner circle. A decision Severus presumed to be largely founded on his undeniable magical talent, his connection to the Prince family, which was, if not the most influential then at least well respected, and Lucius Malfoy's generous sponsorship. Meeting the Dark Lord for the first time had been... inspiring.

Every sentence deliberate and calculated in a way Severus had only begun to grasp long after he had already pledged his fealty to the Dark wizard's cause. Utilising the simmering resentment, which had been caused by Lily's continued scorn and having to witness her burgeoning relationship with James Potter as well as skilfully nurturing the loathing he had felt for his muggle father's violence and his mother's manipulative victimhood.

 _Merlin that woman..._

 _Putting her own son in harms way so she wouldn't have to endure father's drunken outbursts..._

With Narcissa newly wed to Lucius Malfoy, Severus had suddenly found himself to be all alone at Hogwarts, deprived of the only person besides Lily whose company he actually tolerated, had come to value even! Letters had been a poor substitute for his friend's steady presence and against all of his initial expectations the return to being isolated from most of his peers had not really agreed with him. Lucius and the master he served had recognised that fact, had used his desire to finally belong, to be part of something bigger than himself, experience camaraderie and a sense of purpose.

 _It was intoxicating._

Suddenly people had begun to appreciate his work, had shown true interest in his opinions, had even orchestrated his reinstatement into the Prince family, thereby elevating his social status and enabling him to cut all ties with his parents. Politically, Severus might have had his reservations at first but they soon melted away, unable to withstand the combination of charisma and brilliant rhetoric, which took legitimate grievances an warped them to justify the unapologetic radicalism of the Death Eater ideology.

 _The Dark Lord is nothing if not a talented manipulator of the human soul._

 _Not that that fact would absolve me of my many sins..._

Swept up in the momentum of the movement Severus had turned a blind eye to their increasingly brutal methods, or the tyrannic tendencies the Dark Lord began to show in his leadership. Searching with fanaticism for any sign of disloyalty amongst his ranks and punishing dissenters without any semblance of mercy. By the time he had come to his senses, seeing the Dark Lord for the ruthless megalomaniac he was, it had already been too late. The Dark Mark irrevocably binding him to his master and whilst the twisted magic had lain dormant ever since his creator's disappearance Severus could still feel it even now, coldly radiating through his flesh.

 _Waiting eagerly for his return..._

No, Severus would never be free from the shackles of his past and perhaps he was, all things considered, simply not fated for happiness, at least not in a world where Lily's smile had permanently disappeared. But Draco... Seeing him grow from the helpless babe Narcissa had clutched to her chest to a promising young wizard with a keen mind and an undeniable talent for the craft of potion-making, had soothed some of the emptiness his years as a Death Eater had left in their wake. Filling the gaping hole of loneliness with the uncomplicated adoration only a child was capable of and thereby giving his godfather's life meaning and a purpose that went far beyond repentance for his innumerable mistakes.

 _I can't loose him..._

 _I can't!_

Inhaling a shuddering breath Severus stepped into Draco's darkened room, quietly taking in Narcissa's form slumped at her son's bedside. Sorrow marring her delicately cut features even in her sleep, cheeks hollowed by grief and a lack of rest. Her dark locks curling down her back in slight disarray, an unmistakable testament to the fact that she had barely left her son's bedside ever since their return from their disastrous stay at St. Mungos. Inescapably held back by the unspoken fear that death might claim her only child in whatever brief absence she might allow herself.

 _She loves him so fiercely._

 _Although I'm not quite sure if Draco knows that too._

Truth be told observing the way Narcissa and Draco interacted with each other had never ceased to perplex him, their stilted dynamic so far removed from anything he had expected after his friend had finally birthed a living, breathing child that he had trouble to understand it. Granted pureblood culture did nothing to encourage the bond that existed between mother and son, even going so far as considering too much female influence to be detrimental to a son's character development.

 _However, Cissa?_

The same woman who had silently endured such debilitating loss in her pursuit of motherhood? Who had grown more detached and lifeless, the picture of quiet melancholy with every child she would never get to meet?

Sweet Salazar, when Draco had finally come along, by all appearances the only living child Narcissa would ever bear, he had assumed she would pour all her love into the little thing. Dote on her son with the warm gentleness he knew her to be capable of, her freezing mask of indifference softened by maternal bliss. Not retreat further into her shell and deprave her son of her affections.

Troublesome behaviour which the potions master had, for the longest of times, accredited to the traumatic series of miscarriages and stillbirths his friend had suffered prior and even after Draco's birth. Perhaps she feared getting too attached to the boy would fuel her pain once life's cruelty inevitably tore him away from her... However, then there were the times when he would catch Narcissa looking at her son with the kind of heartbreaking wistfulness and an all-consuming sadness that tugged at his nonexistent heartstrings.

 _There's something else there... Something I haven't managed to figure out yet._

Features softening at the sight of his sleeping friend, Severus conjured a blanket, draping it across her shoulders with a gentleness he rarely allowed himself to show right before a broken whimper interrupted the potion master's pensive contemplations, prompting him to focus his attention on the increasingly frail looking boy who was sprawled across the silky sheets clutching his left arm as if he had just been stabbed. Heart constricting painfully at the overwhelming pain he could see on his godson's deathly pale face, cheeks hollow, unseeing storm-grey eyes haunted by ghosts only he could see, Severus kept his voice soft as he said.

"Draco."

"Father?"

 _Sometimes I wished I was..._

There was a strained tenseness to Draco's feverish whisper, as if he was already bracing himself for a confrontation, a certain wariness which the potions master had never noticed before. Not that he could blame the boy for reacting with caution... Lucius Malfoy was without doubt an imposing figure, continually demanding nothing but excellence from his only son and heir. On quite a few occasions, Severus had even witnessed him issuing thinly veiled threats of violence, either for mindless mistakes or a lack of progress in Draco's studies.

Corporal punishment was not unusual for a family as ancient as the Malfoys, who still honoured the old ways of magic and it had certainly not been Severus' place to intervene on Draco's behalf even if the memories still left an ashen taste in his mouth.

 _I still can't believe that he would leave the two of them all alone..._

 _Though Cissa seemed to be rather relieved. They were never the happiest couple._

 _"_ No, Draco, it's me, Severus. I'll need to take a look at your arm..."

Notably relaxing, the blond boy blinked against the twilight, arm twitching out of sight. "Uncle Sev... What are you doing here? I buried you... you and Maman both. Asphodel and Angel's tears... Dark Lord... Couldn't save either of you. Didn't want me to. Lucius killed her right in front of me and I couldn't... Just like aunt Bella tortured Granger. Granger... She hates me, you know? Gryffindor Princess. Could never love Death Eater scum. Never. Did it hurt? The Dark Mark? I always wondered if it was less painful when you took it willingly. When you actually believed in him. Did you want the Dark Lord to win, even at the end? Never quite figured that out. Bloody hard to read... Doesn't matter anyway... We lost. Lost. So many people died."

 _Merlin, Cissa wasn't exaggerating when she said he was incoherent!_

Nonetheless it was with a renewed sense of urgency that Severus reached forward to grab Draco's arm, twisting it into view. His breath hitched as he traced the garish red outlines of a scar twisting down Draco's left forearm right where the Dark Mark was supposed to be.

' _I always wondered if it was less painful when you took it willingly.'_

"Sweet Salazar, Draco..."


	4. Chapter 4

Hello Lovelies!

Another chapter in Narcissa's POV, the next one will be in Severus POV for reasons that might appear rather obvious towards the end of this. A big shoutout to everyone who left a review, or favourited this story! It's greatly appreciated.

All the love,

Lena

I don't own Harry Potter.

Chapter 4: J'attendrai

 _Do not stand at my grave and weep_

 _I'm not there, I do not sleep_

 _Do not stand at my grave and cry_

 _I'm not there, I did not die_

 _Mary Elizabeth Frye_

It was a beautiful summer day, white clouds chasing across an unnaturally blue sky, the fresh air filled with the smell of grass, flowers and the soft breeze ghosting across her skin. Malfoy Magic hummed through the ground, much easier to detect due to the close proximity of the wards that surrounded the property. Her magic, in fact, by rights of marriage. Powerful. Intoxicating, and yet so much more temperate than the fierce, indomitable force that had guided her own ancestors.

Soft hills were rolling towards the horizon, a seemingly endless sea of greens stretching out in front of her as she was riding, flying, the muscles of her light grey Granian mare Eira flexing beneath her as the horse spread its silver white wings and propelled them higher, always higher until they had almost reached the domelike barrier that shielded the property.

Eira was drawing a few, lazy circles above the estate. Dark blue water glistening in the sun as the blinding sunlight hit the surface of the small lake, which formed one of the natural borders of the Malfoy lands. Beneath her Narcissa could see the treetops of the woods with its hidden clearing and the small spring. Her beloved gardens with its everblooming flowers, rare species of magical herbs and the four greenhouses, each specifically outfitted to accommodate plants that required unusual climates to prosper.

Narcissa closed her eyes.

Flying tasted like freedom.

Or at least as what counted as freedom in her world.

 _Like a bird flapping its wings in a gilded cage._

When she opened her eyes again she was standing beneath ancient trees, the stormy sky blinking through the dense canopy of proud English oaks and elegantly twisted ash trees. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the birds ceased to sing as she moved through the familiar patch of woods, a cold sense of foreboding gripping her heart. Dread, that increased with every step. Fear. Of what she did not know, but it felt all consuming, her steps speeding up until she was almost running, stumbling gracelessly over roots and mossy stones. Finally she collapsed, her chest heaving as she fought for breath, her fall unexpectedly feathered by greenery.

No, not greenery... Flowers.

White, star-shaped blossoms with subtle dashes of yellows and rose.

 _Asphodel and Angel's Tears._

 _Severus._

 _No!_

 _Sweet Salazar, please..._

A haze settled over Narcissa as she stared at the lifeless body of Severus Snape in speechless terror, the canopy of leaves reflecting in his charcoal irises which were bereft of any sign of consciousness. Blood darkened his robes right above his belt, the fabric pierced and torn, but otherwise his appearance was immaculate. Hands folded across his chest, pale fingers wrought around the dark wood of his Hawthorn wand just like pureblood customs demanded.

Even in death her friend still looked haunted, aged far beyond his years by the heavy burden of guilt and regret. Had she ever told him how much he meant to her? Made an attempt to heal the wounds Lily Potter's death had left behind? Apologised for inadvertently placing him within Lucius' sphere of power and influence? Had he ever thought to blame her for it?

 _So many questions..._

 _So many secrets..._

 _Twenty years of friendship and now he's gone._

 _Please forgive me, Sev._

 _"_ May the winds tell your story and the stars guide you on your journey, my friend. Perhaps the embrace of death will bring you the peace that this life's cruelty could not." Biting back the sobs that were threatening to burst out of her, Narcissa leaned forward, shaky fingers brushing down her friend's eyelids, before she halted abruptly. For the very first time noticing the other body that was lying right besides the magically preserved potion's master.

 _Of course..._

 _...the Angel's Tears._

 _But how?_

To claim that seeing her own unmoving body laid out on the forest ground, ebony locks contrasting starkly against the white sea of blossoms, came as somewhat of a shock would have been quite the understatement.

 _Naturally_.

Instead of being arranged in the traditional way like Severus, one of her hands had fallen to her side, seemingly reaching for her old friend, a black Calla nestled between her fingertips whilst the other was placed protectively over her stomach, the familiarity of the gesture causing her throat to constrict with untold sorrow.

 _Gods..._

Forcing herself to focus on something, anything that would distract her from the underlying implications, Narcissa let her eyes trail upwards, mustering the face that could have been mirror image of her own. Nonetheless there were a handful of subtle differences, her cheeks were too hollow, almost gaunt, the thin worry lines around her mouth deepened, and a thin cut ran right across her right cheekbone, a line of ruby framing the wound. However, before the witch had the opportunity to make any sense of her detached observations, the cracking sound of a boot colliding with a dry twig broke through the grave quiet, prompting her head to whip away from the ghostly scene and towards the seemingly endless expanse of trees and nothingness.

Silence.

Another crack, closer now, caused Narcissa to scramble to her feet... As it turned out just in time to greet the tall wizard, who stepped into the clearing in a much more composed position than the one she had occupied previously. Sorrow or not, she was Narcissa Aurelia Black taught to uphold her dignity, the dignity of her family under any given circumstances.

Not that it mattered anyway, since she could have just as well been invisible for all the attention the newcomer spared her, his sharply cut features solemn, shoulders weighed down as if he felt the weight of the world resting upon them, as he gazed at the now empty field of flowers.

Torn between a lingering sense of regret and guilty relief at no longer being confronted with her own mortality, never mind her oldest friend's corpse, Narcissa concentrated on the young man in front of her. Trying to make any sense of his intrusion on her grief.

His characteristic platinum blond hair was groomed to perfection, even if the cut was decidedly modern and much shorter than most purebloods tended to prefer. The long robes, kept to a conservatively dark colour scheme and their tight fit and the quality of their materials spoke of wealth and privilege. Black fabric stood out sharply against his deathly pale skin and despite the wizard's apparent youth, upon moving closer to him, the Malfoy matriarch spotted the glint of two easily recognisable family insignias adorning his slender fingers.

 _Black and Malfoy._

 _Draco?_

 _But..._

For a moment the two of them both stood there, frozen in time, as Narcissa wrestled with the tumultuous feelings that latest realisation had brought her. She could see it now. Could trace the lines, where Draco's features had matured, morphed from preadolescent...well, innocence might have been taking things a little too far but it certainly conveyed the general idea... to an unyielding pureblood mask that made her own seem almost transparent in comparison.

Then, without a word of warning, the grown up version of her son sunk slowly to his knees, his mercurial eyes filled with shards of ice until he drew in a shuddering breath and they came to life, reflecting the kind of haunted tiredness of a person, who had stared too long into the bottomless abyss of human depravity and lived to tell the tale.

"Draco."

 _Her son._

 _Alive._

 _Hurting._

Yearning to console Draco, to take away his pain, Narcissa reached for his arm, but her hand moved right through him. As if she was watching a memory in a pensieve, damned to useless inaction whilst her son suffered just like she had been so many times before. Jerking back as if she had been burned, Narcissa retreated a bit, for the first time feeling like she was the intruder. What did she know of this man's grief? His pain? How could she presume her touch would have been of any comfort?

 _Gods, Draco, you deserve so much better!_

 _"_ It's not real."

Without any forewarning Narcissa felt the warm weight of a hand on her shoulder, the ancient trees, the white blossoms and the older likeness of her son all dissolving into dark mist that quickly reassembled into a field of ruins, patches of grass and heather growing wild amidst the debris. Perched on the remnants of a giant pillar sat a young woman, silver white locks framing her aristocratic features, midnight blue eyes greeting Narcissa with an air of silent wisdom as she stated dreamily. "It never was... Not for you at least. A mere echo of a future that will never come to pass."

"I don't understand..."

"M... Maman?"

 _Draco_!

The broken voice of her son woke Narcissa up, the wide expanse of the Highlands and the mysterious woman replaced by dim twilight and the sensation of thin silk sheets caressing her cheeks. Pushing aside the lingering sense of unease the dream had left behind, she raised her head, giving her eyes time to slowly readjust to her surroundings.

It was by no means the first time Draco's strained mumblings had roused her from her slumber. Fourteen long days and even longer nights after she had found her son in his feverish agony, his waking hours were still fraught with restlessness and terror. His incoherent ramblings painting a devastatingly bleak picture of a world that consisted of nothing but pain, suffering, death and a girl he seemed to admire desperately but would never, ever have.

 _Although I'm still very much on the fence about my level of comfort with Draco liking any girl in such a manner._

 _Never mind a muggleborn._

 _Lucius would never allow it, of course, but I would lie if I claimed not to have my own, rather substantial reservations regarding such a match._

As soon as their gazes met Narcissa had to suppress a quiet gasp of surprise, her anthracite orbs widening a fraction as she searched her son's exhausted face for any sign that her tired eyes were deceiving her. Two weeks she had not dared to hope and despite the fact that Severus' newest Cooling Draught variation had shown some promise at lowering his temperature, all in all it had not appeared to have a significant impact on his general state of discomfort. But no, there he was, her son, her sweet, sweet son, sitting up the corners of his mouth curled into the beginnings of a smirk.

 _Lucid_.

Exhaling a heavy sigh she leaned forward, wordlessly reaching for Draco's hand, as if feeling his touch could soothe her fears that this was nothing but yet another dream. Her wishful thinking turned reality, just to be snached away from her at the very last second. Therefore, when her fingers finally met his, Narcissa could not keep herself from squeezing tightly, a rather poor substitute for the motherly hug she had only refrained from for fear of hurting him in the process. Nonetheless, she relished in the answering twitch of his muscles as he reciprocated the simple gesture, his features transforming into an expression of wondrous wistfulness

 _Perhaps..._

 _Just perhaps, I'll get my chance to be the mother you deserve._

 _"_ Draco?"

Almost as soon as his name had fallen from her lips, somewhere between a question and a desperate plea, her son's stormy eyes grew distant. Emotions well guarded behind walls of controlled impassivity, causing her to wonder just where she had gone wrong in her approach. Granted, her past behaviour was bound to have shattered Draco's trust in her sincerity... Could she really blame him for being wary after having suffered through years of indifference? Was it so far fetched that Draco would try to create emotional distance between them for fear of future rejection?

Fighting down the pang of sorrow and regret that inevitably accompanied all those questions Narcissa breathed out concernedly, quietly vowing to herself to do everything in her power in order to regain her son's trust. "Oh, I've been so terribly worried for you, mon cheri."

"M... Mother." Visibly exhausted by the simple effort of keeping himself upright, Draco's head lolled back, unceremoniously hitting the mountain of pillows the house elves had amassed behind him. However before Narcissa had the chance to move closer, Draco's eyes fluttered open and he choked out haltingly, the raw sincerity behind his words causing her breath to catch in her throat as the words spilled from his chapped lips. "I... I love you... Maman. I'm sorry that I never... never told you that... enough. Wasn't..." A dark shadow crossed his sickly pale features as he ended the sentence softly. "Wasn't the Malfoy way."

' _I... I love you... Maman.'_

 _'I'm sorry that I never... never told you that... enough.'_

How could her only son apologise to her with so much heartfelt regret, when she had been the one who had failed him so grievously? Had left him to suffer under Lucius' rule of fear and violence, never offering him any semblance of comfort for fear of her husband's retribution? Never granted him a moment of reprieve from the enormous expectations that had been placed upon his too small shoulders? How could he tell her that he loved her, when she had never given him any reason to believe that the same was true for her?

"Oh, Draco..."

Stepping a bit closer to her son's sickbed Narcissa reached for his forehead, her heart practically bursting with emotion, when she was not immediately greeted by flaring heat, Malfoy magic humming contentedly beneath her fingertips, a much more objective indicator that Draco was on his way to recovery. "Thank Merlin, your fever has finally broken. Sleep now, my sweet boy, you need every bit of rest that you can get. I'll be back in a minute. Salazar, Severus will be so glad to hear that you've finally woken up."

 _I'll find a way to make this right, mon cheri. I swear it on my magic._


	5. Chapter 5

Hey Lovelies,

As promised in the last Eagle Princess chapter A Mother's Love is back! Sadly without Severus and Narcissa interactions but I'm planning to make up for it in the next chapter... So many feelings coming our way! In the meantime Severus visits St. Mungos in order to help out one of his colleagues.

On another note, a big shout out to my new beta maccheroni90 who has generously agreed to proofread my drafts from now on. She has already worked through all the old Eagle Princess chapters, so I will probably replace them in the near future.

All the love,

Lena

P.S.: I do not own Harry Potter! Duh... ;)

Chapter 5 Whispers of Change

 _But what is stronger_

 _Than the human heart_

 _Which shatters over and over_

 _And lives._

 _Rupi Kaur_

 _St. Mungo's, Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries._

The cleansing scent of burning rosemary filled the isolated chamber that was usually reserved for the members of the Malfoy family, emanating from four basins filled with slowly sweltering embers. From one of the corners one could hear the calming gurgling sounds of a small spring, the windows covered with creamy white curtains that ensured that the entering light would not be too obtrusive for the wary eye of the current occupant. At the centre of the room was a single bed, beige linen and ivory silk layered over each other in a way that conveyed comfort and cleanliness.

However, in spite of the deliberately peaceful atmosphere, Severus Snape had to force down the steadily rising sense of foreboding that welled in his heart as he took a measured step towards the sickbed. Dark eyes trailing unflinchingly across the fragile looking form of a young girl, her damp locks carelessly splayed across the pillow, delicately shaped features distorted into a pained grimace that spoke of utter exhaustion and otherworldly sorrow.

From where he was standing, the Potion's Master could feel the burning heat radiating from her almost translucent skin, although the physical sensation paled in comparison to the unforgiving current of magic that raged through the air. A swirling storm, raw and powerful, vibrating with the very same unnatural intensity he had already encountered during his examinations of his godson.

 _But other than that?_

In all the many years, Severus had dedicated to his studies: Learning of the mysteries that separated a fairly competent brewer from an exceptional one. After spending more than two decades immersing himself in the mysteries of the Dark Arts... He still could not think of anything that could compare to the wild, all-consuming forces that had taken hold of this girl. Truth be told it was a veritable miracle that she was still alive.

Children, even ones that would go on to become exceptional witches and wizards, were not fashioned to withstand that kind of magic for a prolonged period of time. Their cores were not yet fully developed, too weak to handle the exposure without burning out. If it came to the worst their own powers would eventually slip from their control, consuming them in a manner reminiscent of an obscurial.

 _I can't believe she lasted even this long..._

 _A day of this was supposed to leave her at death's doorstep..._

 _Close to two weeks is... or rather should have been... impossible._

Somehow the admission came easier to him than expected, now that the child in question was not Draco. Not Narcissa's son, the only one of her babes who had lived long enough to call her mother. Not Severus' godson with his talent for potions and his keen mind, one of the two people the former Death Eater had left in this godforsaken world of theirs that he was still capable of loving... After all he had spend close to a fortnight refusing to admit to the reality of the situation, even if it was merely within the privacy of is own thoughts.

 _She's a fighter._

Outward appearances aside, the standard diagnostics St Mungo's Healers had performed upon the girl's admittance actually read remarkably well given her current circumstances. Draco's own state, which, for obvious reasons, was the only reference point Severus could use at this point in time, had been decidedly worse until two short days ago when the runic modification of the Cooling Draught had finally proven effective at stabilising the boy. A minor detail, all things considered, however, the Potion's Master could not help but wonder why his godson had ended up being more affected by whatever magic was burning through their bodies. Was the explanation as simple as her being stronger than Draco? Or had there been another reason why the young Malfoy heir seemed to have born the brunt of the damage?

At last the wizard's inquiring gaze flickered towards the upper part of the page where the patient's name pranged in neatly spelled letters: Hermione Jean Granger.

 _Granger..._

Of course the girl's name hardly came as much of a surprise to Severus, otherwise he would have never insisted so vehemently on examining the young witch himself. Not if it meant leaving Narcissa and his unconscious godson to their own devices. Regardless of the rather promising results the newest treatment had yielded, it was still early days. Too soon to be sure of the boy's recovery, even if the Potion's Master felt cautiously optimistic that Draco would eventually pull through.

' _Just like aunt Bella tortured Granger.'_

 _'Granger... She hates me, you know?'_

 _'Could never love Death Eater scum.'_

His godson's desolate voice resounded in Severus' ears, the haunting echoes of a mystery, which, loath as the Potion's Master was to admit it, continued to elude his attempts of finding a halfway logical explanation for all of this madness. Why would Draco, heir to the most revered bloodlines of British pureblood society, fantasise about a muggleborn witch who had not even received her first Hogwarts letter? Unguarded words coated with so much desperate longing and wistful resignation that even Severus' frozen heart clenched in unwelcome recognition.

' _Death Eater scum', indeed..._

Unbidden an image of scarred flesh flitted through the wizard's mind. Salazar knew, he had always prided himself on his levelheadedness. The ability to analyse every single aspect of a situation with systematic thoroughness, actions dictated by logic and rationality rather than allowing his emotions to overcome his better judgement. Never again, he had sworn to himself. Never again, would he let his feelings get the better of him, not after all his past thoughtlessness had cost him.

' _Did it hurt? The Dark Mark?'_

However, ever since Severus had discovered the bright red scar that had manifested on his godson's forearm the potion's master had felt himself slipping. Anger and confusion invading his mind so thoroughly that even his tried and tested Occlumency exercises provided little more than a moment's reprieve from the turmoil of his thoughts. It was not even Draco alone, who was giving him cause for concern, even though, watching his godson locked in a constant battle against the merciful embrace of Death was an experience he could have easily done without. Narcissa's flippant disregard for her husband's continued absence also worried him, his friend's uncaring nonchalance a never-ending source of puzzlement.

 _What am I missing?_

 _Would Cissa even tell me if I asked?_

 _Or does she think me just as untrustworthy as everyone else does?_

The question hurt him more than Severus would ever care to admit, fear of already knowing the answer one of the main factors that kept him from confronting the Lady of Malfoy Manor with his doubts. Swallowing thickly, the Slytherin Head of House let his gaze flicker to his right, addressing the stern witch who was standing at his side. Secretly hoping that the distraction would suffice to, if only temporarily, drown out the chaos of his mind. "You mentioned in your letter that Miss Granger has been like this for almost two weeks?"

 _Just like Draco._

 _Yet another point to add to my list of inexplicable parallels..._

Pursing her lips ever so slightly Severus' formidable colleague nodded, empathetic forest green eyes never leaving the face of the young muggleborn witch as she answered, her voice wavering in spite of her infamously unshakeable countenance. "Everything was fine when the family went to bed the night before, and even the days before that were hardly out of the ordinary, a minor incident of accidental magic aside. When her father went to wake her the next morning, the girl was already hallucinating. Crying out for people her parents had never even heard of, her body temperature higher than anything a normal muggle child should have been able to survive..."

' _Crying out for people her parents had never even heard of...'_

 _And again there were no signs... No early symptoms... Nothing to point towards a possible source for the child's affliction._

"Has she received any treatments I should know about?" Concealing his mild disappointment behind an arch of his eyebrow, the Potion Master wordlessly implored Minerva to continue.

"Of course Miss Granger's parents moved her to a muggle hospital, once they realised that their daughter's condition was hardly a minor illness that would eventually run its course. As one would expect their doctor's treatments proved to be largely ineffective, whatever magic has taken hold of the girl is clearly far too powerful to be affected by muggle medicine. Twelve days she was dangling between life and death and now... Even here at St. Mungo's the healers don't believe she can hold on much longer."

 _Curse Histleheart that incompetent fool..._

Inwardly Severus found himself seething with rage as the memory of the Head Healer's callous demeanour resurfaced, but he swallowed down his distaste in favour of asking the question that had been weighing on his mind ever since he had read Minerva's hastily worded request. "And Albus?... " She stiffened. "Not that I am not honoured by your confidence in my abilities, I really am, but given the choice between a reformed Death Eater and the most powerful wizard alive... Well, few would seek out my counsel first and never without good reason."

"Albus is..." For the briefest moment Minerva faltered, her inner conflict playing out plainly on her strict features. "We fought a war together, side by side and even before then, we were old friends sharing decade's worth of trust and mutual respect. However, there have been many times where we've had our disagreements and I... I must admit I fear the day when his single-mindedness will drive him to do something he cannot come back from. Children have no place on a chessboard."

' _For neither can live while the other survives...'_

 _Lily..._

 _My fault._

"I fail to see in what capacity Miss Granger might be of interest to him... Magic has blessed her, no one could ever think to deny that but great powers do not necessarily translate into great witches and the Order can still field a good amount of capable fighters." By far not enough in Severus opinion, not when Lucius Malfoy's forays into ministry politics were increasing in boldness, the wizard's image largely restored in the eyes of the public, but surely the Order was not desperate enough to let little children fight their wars for them?

 _Won't they?_

 _Regulus was initiated alongside me._

 _Sixteen, not even a man grown._

 _They killed him not two years later..._

 _'Did it hurt? The Dark Mark?'_

Wordlessly Minerva reached for the thin blanket that covered most of the young witch's upper body, his heart skipping a beat as the fabric glided away to reveal her right forearm: torn skin, reddish raw flesh sprawling across an otherwise unblemished canvas, a perfect mirror image of the scar that marred his godson's arm. It could not be. As if in a trance Severus let his finger's trail across the mark, breath catching in his throat as his thoughts struggled to catch up with the implications of this newest discovery.

" _It can't..."_

At his touch her eyes shot wide open, warm amber hues swirling in anguish, her feverish hand wrapping around his arm with surprising force. "They... All gone... All gone. Much death. Ginny... couldn't safe her. Baby. And Harry... Oh Harry... My fault. All my fault. Failed you... I should have saved them for you."

 _Harry?_

 _She can't mean..._

Her grip tightened even more, nails digging into his skin as her head jerked in his direction, her breathing speeding up as she choked out with an air of uncomprehending disbelief her features alight with impossible recognition. "Godric... Professor Snape?"

 _Godric?_

 _'Gryffindor Princess.'_

 _What in Salazar's name...?_

Questions clawed at his insides, dread freezing his blood into icy shards, as he took in the fact that this muggleborn witch, this little slip of a girl, who should have never even heard of the Wizarding World, had just confirmed the connection to the House of Lions that Draco's feverish ramblings had hinted at. Although, truth be told he was even more rattled by the fact that Granger had recognised him, had even addressed him like any other Hogwarts student would.

 _It defies any semblance of logic._

Contrary to himself, a quick glance towards the Transfiguration Professor showed her eyeing him shrewdly, observing his reaction like one would a particularly fascinating social experiment. Her demeanour comparably calm, oddly unperturbed by this baffling turn of events.

 _Of course..._

 _She knew this was going to happen._

"But... You... You are dead."

' _I buried you, you and Maman both...'_

 _What is it with these children and their insistence that I've left the Lands of the Living?_

"During the Battle... Wand. Dumbledore... Would have died anyway. You did it for him, didn't you? Malfoy. Always knew you had a soft spot for him." Confusion bled into her voice when she heaved another sigh, helpless eyes seeking out the older witch in search of guidance. "Good Godric, Malfoy... Don't understand, Minerva... Why would Luna...? The Black Prince... Angelina, Colin... So much blood, so many deaths... He looks like her."

' _Dumbledore...Would have died anyway.'_

 _'The Black Prince...'_

 _'Malfoy.'_

 _Draco or Lucius?_

Patting the girl's arm in an almost motherly gesture of affection McGonagall soothed. "Hush now, child. You need to save your strength..." In a tone that made it very clear that she was not inclined to tolerate any disagreement on the matter Minerva added, her words accompanied by a disapproving glare in the Potion Master's direction. "I am sure we will have time to address Mr. Malfoy's involvement in all of this, once you are on the way of recovery, my dear."

 _Draco..._

 _I'll find out what happened to you eventually._

For a moment Severus thought to see the girl relax at his colleagues calming words. Then, as sudden as a summer storm, her expression shifted once again, this time flooding with terror and unspeakable pain as she wailed. "No! No... Please stop, I don't know. We found it in the woods. It's not real, I swear. Not real. Don't hurt them, please..." A sop wracked Granger's frail body, her breathing frantic and her arms spasming wildly as if she was fighting off an invisible enemy.

' _Aunt Bella...'_

" _Somnum_."

She went limp, eyelids shutting close as the enchantment took effect, though there was no peace to be found in her expression, only the dark shadows of agony and desperation. Broken beyond belief in a way that made Severus feel a bang of self-loathing as he reached into his robes in order to procure a small vial filled to the brim with the crystalline blue liquid that had the power to ease the girl's suffering, if not to save her life. "Try this. One quarter at sunrise, one at noon and the rest in the evening. She can have a sip now, that should settle her once the effect of my spell has worn off."

"A Cooling Draught? Severus, I'm quite sure..."

"Rest assured, this modified formula is much more potent than your regular Cooling Draught, Minerva. If used as instructed it should stabilise Miss Granger to a degree that will hopefully allow her own magic to battle this mysterious affliction." At the Potion Master's quiet explanation, the eyes of his colleague grew wide, hope and relief softening her features only to harden again when Severus retracted his extended hand ever so slightly. Voice silky and smooth as always, belying the bile that was burning in the back of his throat. "Of course there are certain conditions..."

 _I can't put you at risk, Draco..._

 _Not even for the muggleborn girl you dream of._

"Oh Severus..." Somehow the disappointment tinging the voice of the Gryffindor Head of House stung him more than the rightful anger he had expected, the subtle swirls of sadness and disgust hidden in her eyes reminding him of Lily's bright emerald orbs when she had learned of his involvement with the Death Eaters. "She is just a little girl. An innocent. I simply refuse to believe that you would sink as low as using a child's life as a bargaining tool!"

 _I won't allow Albus to use my godson as a pawn!_

"Please spare me the outrage in regards to my nonexistent morals, Minerva. The headmaster is anything but a fool and whilst I admire your erstwhile commitment to treat this matter with the discretion it deserves, I would appreciate it if you were not to insult my intelligence by pretending your concerns about Albus' motifs are going to keep you from answering his questions truthfully if he just cares enough to ask them." All colour slowly drained from the stern witch's face at Severus' accusatory tone, and yet the fact that she could not bring herself to deny it spoke more loudly than a thousand words.

"Now, Miss Granger's fate is of no personal concern to me, however as you well know the mysterious circumstances of her affliction bear much more far-reaching implications. I don't want to see myself entangled in Albus' inane speculations, much less subject the members of respectable wizarding families to such a treatment."

The stern witch released a sigh, her gaze dropping down and landing on the girl's pained face. "Have it your way then... On my magic, I swear to keep the names of those Miss Granger has mentioned a secret. But Severus, I want to make it quite clear that I am not doing this for you! This is for Hermione. The poor dear has suffered quite enough already, I won't be responsible for prolonging her pain much as I resent validating your methods by my acquiescence."

"She has."

He agreed tonelessly, relief coursing through the Potion Master's blood as he handed the Gryffindor Head of House the precious vial. "I will be sure to send enough Cooling Draught to last you for the rest of the week. More should it be required. Unless otherwise requested I will return in three days time to check up on Miss Granger, hopefully the fever will have receded by then." Having nothing left to say, Severus quickly turned on his heels, dark robes pillowing around him as he stalked towards the door, Minerva's voice echoing after him.

"I hope she is worth it, Severus. And her son."

 _They are._


End file.
